


Sweet Places

by cassiopea (nina_monk)



Series: The Burly Banner Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Chubby Bruce, F/M, Feedism, Light sexytimes, Oblivious weight gain, POV Natasha Romanov, Stuffing, Weight Gain, funnel feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea
Summary: “Honey," Bruce murmured, "you’ll like it.” He rubbed her shoulders in that way that got to her, every time (a way that she both loved and hated, because it softened her), and then he ghosted his lips across her forehead. “It’s good for me. Good for everyone around me. Good for you,” he emphasized with a small grin.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Infundo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368680) by [cassiopea (nina_monk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea). 



> From a Tumblr anon: _Anonymous asked: What about Bruce/Natasha replacing the boys in the InfundoAU? Like Natasha's thoughts when Bruce starts putting weight on and if it changes their relationship? Would she like it as much as Tony and Steve?_
> 
> I think she’d handle it differently, but in the end she’d accept it.

***

When Bruce and Tony came up with the solution to his metabolic coma (she hated calling it that, but Tony’s nickname had stuck), Natasha was more than a bit skeptical. True, she wanted Bruce to be healthy and happy, but this…contraption he described seemed a bit much, and she told him so.

“Honey," Bruce murmured, "you’ll like it.” He rubbed her shoulders in that way that got to her, every time (a way that she both loved and hated, because it softened her), and then he ghosted his lips across her forehead. “It’s good for me. Good for everyone around me. Good for _you_ ,” he emphasized with a small grin.

Unable to stop herself, she briefly returned his dangerous smile. “I get that you think that, Bruce, I do. And of course I don’t want you blacking out again.” She placed her fingers across his lips, before the retorts began. “But. Using some kind of machine to calm you down seems a little extreme.” He sighed and she gently touched his cheek, feeling him relax beneath her touch. “I think there could be other ways, you know. To keep you settled.”

“The Lullaby?” He asked, lips twisting. “It worked, a few times, sure. But Tasha, this…this could _always_ keep me settled. I’ve been looking for something that could do this very thing for-–” He held up his hands, shaking his head. “Hell, I don’t even know for how long.”

Her expression must have soured because he gently bumped his forehead against hers.

“There are some nice side benefits. You may wanna be around for those.”

His tone had lilted, teasing her. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

She made a face. “Bruce, I don’t…”

“Just trust me, okay? Tasha, _trust_ me.”

“Fine,” she mumbled, resigned to his stubbornness. Natasha briefly closed her eyes, but not before she carefully took Bruce’s hands in her own. “But I don’t want you experimenting with it. Not unless I’m with you.”

“Yeah. Um. That’s…probably for the best.”

She looked up sharply, but his expression had already turned cryptic and hooded. “Why?”

“Tomorrow.” He rubbed her hands as if trying to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. “Come to the lab tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

***

She figured noon was good enough, especially since Bruce kept forgetting to eat lunches. She’d taken to packing his lunch - which she would’ve denied to anyone who asked - but she wanted to make sure he got at least one good meal a day. Despite gaining a few pounds here or there he was still too skinny for her tastes.

“Hey, look, Brucie, it’s the Red Menace.”

“Tony…”

“Kidding, Bruce. Kidding.”

But Natasha knew Tony was only partially joking. No matter. A good, honest fear of her was normally healthy.

She nodded to him. “Stark.”

“Wid.” Natasha made a face. “Look, I gotta jet anyway. Pepper and I have standing reservations at Bouley’s and she’ll skin me alive if I miss. But, ah…I won’t be back for a couple hours, Bruce. At least.” He wiped his hands on a rag, and loped towards the exit. “You kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Tony winked at her in particular, as the lab door closed behind him.

“Oh, that’s not disconcerting. Not in the least.”

“Shh,” Bruce scolded. He nervously drummed his fingers across a tankard, over what Natasha could only guess was the monster, aka the contraption that would “end” Bruce’s unscheduled changes into a green, nine-foot superbeast.

“Is this it?” She flicked the drum and produced a loud, metallic ping. The sound was enough to nudge Bruce from his thoughts.

“Hm? What? Oh…oh yeah.”

“It doesn’t look too intimidating.”

“Well…it isn’t,” he said simply. He blinked at her as if coming to himself, and the scientist in him took over. Natasha could see the scenario clearly, him in a classroom, lecturing eager undergrads, his own eyes bright and alive due to being in his most comfortable element.

Bruce took off his glasses and perched them on the edge of his desk. “It’s far more than that. It’s something absolutely simple in form and function, and I could kick myself for not thinking of it sooner.”

“Are you more or less saying, ‘the answer was there all along’?”

“More or less,” he echoed. He dragged his finger along the sides of the drum and Natasha fought down a shiver; he treated the barrel like a sexual object. A mistress. And very quickly she realized she was entering into a new, polyamorous contract with an inanimate object and honestly? She found herself warming to the prospect.

Almost on cue, Bruce smiled crookedly, wickedly. “Wanna see it in action?”

“Sure.” Her voice sounded rusty and Bruce’s wicked smile grew. God help her, she knew she’d like it, if only to continually see that spark of debauchery in Bruce’s eye.

“Our previous designs required at least a two-man set up,” he raved. He practically bounced on his toes, overtaken by giddy glee. He plopped on the chair in front of the metal barrel and clicked on a few random toggles. A deep thrumming hum vibrated through the room, thrilling her down to her toes. “But now, I can use it without help. It’s entirely automated.”

He honest-to-god winked at her. “I’m gonna strap this to my mouth, so I won’t be able to talk for a while. I–I don’t have to be under long, but sometimes–” he pinked up suddenly. “I ah. I can lose track of time. Feel free to hit this switch,” he shared, gesturing to a predictably red button. “It’s the kill switch. You can hit it after a few minutes, if you want.” A small, disappointed frown tugged at his lips and she knew she wouldn’t stop the experiment. Not unless he wanted to. But she wouldn’t tell him that.

“Go on, already,” she said impatiently. And to her surprise she was impatient; she wanted to watch the competition in action, after all. Or maybe, get to know her new sex partner.

Once Bruce strapped himself in - and she briefly wondered why the mouthpiece resembled a ~~ball-gag~~ respirator (Tony, she thought, inwardly eye-rolling) - he gave her a final blink-wink and toggled the on switch.

Instantly the hum changed tones, mimicking the sound of a quiet robot vacuum. She watched as a thick, white liquid shuffled down the tube connecting the respirator to Bruce’s lips. He gave her one final wink, then…

Then.

It resembled the Hulk change, but in reverse. Bruce’s features softened; the harsh worry lines around his eyes and lips faded, becoming nearly angelic as the liquid hit his lips. A sugary smell wafted through the machine’s vents, reminding Natasha of Summer and strolls down boardwalks, and a flashback - one of the good kind - of roller coaster rides and callioped tunes and beaches with rolling waves gently worked through the shoulder knots she never knew were there.

Her daydream ended when Bruce’s deep lowing noises and moans broke her reverie. He sucked down the creamy malt like a hungry toddler, and she looked on, captivated by his lust and literal hunger for the frozen mush. The pasty shake threaded into Bruce’s greedy lips and she paused, rooted to the floor, transfixed and mesmerized by his reaction. Minutes ticked by, and she could do nothing but watch, new emotions assaulting her senses. She’d never felt so helpless. So…so weak.

Excited.

Natasha swallowed. Her stomach growled and she felt ravenous. But maybe not…for food.

Bruce groaned and began kneading his fingers up and down his engorged belly. Her eyes widened at how tight his pants were becoming, and she watched as his stomach slowly rounded over his belt like an inflating hot air balloon. She moistened her lips, wanting to…to touch, to feel the results of his gorging. Her legs finally unstuck themselves long enough so she could creep close to Bruce, and her fingers shook as she hastily undid his belt and pants. He didn’t open his eyes - in fact, he barely acknowledged what was happening, apart from another obscene moan and brief smile. The freedom from his pinching buttons gave him liberty to suck down the milkshake with even more gusto, and Natasha suddenly made a decision to straddle him, desperate to feel and experience _everything_.

Perched on his lap, Natasha could feel the humming of the machine coursing through her limbs. She shivered. She could feel Bruce’s cock hardening under her and she chewed her lips, slowly dry-humping his lap as his expanding belly rubbed against hers. Even as his eyes stayed firmly closed, Bruce raised trembling hands to steady her. Natasha’s own lusty grunts echoed Bruce’s, but the anticipation of waiting until he finished was almost too much. She wavered between hitting the kill switch and waiting him out, but waiting wouldn’t be an option, not for much longer–

The machine’s hum changed pitch and far too soon Natasha heard the desperate sucking sounds of Bruce attempting to swallow the last drops from the tube. He drunkenly pawed at the mouthpiece but an auto-lock had already released the mechanism, revealing his machine-plumped, sticky lips.

His grin was atrocious, a lewd mess too similar to one of Stark’s filthy smirks. Bruce reminded her of a frat boy on the last day of exams.

“Hey,” he slurred at her.

“Hey,” she breathed back. She thumbed some the stickiness from his chin and placed it in her own mouth: Bananas and caramel, two of her favorite flavors. She kissed him a few times, and licked Bruce’s cheeks for good measure. His goofy smile grew while his hands began gently massaging her thighs. 

“So…what do you want to do now?”

Bruce’s eyes were still dreamy and unfocused, but his voice wasn’t. “To fuck,” he said bluntly.

She grabbed his hands and grinned back. “Good choice.”

**

They didn’t make it to their room. She made space in his office and they went at it like two back alley cats. Sex was different this time because this time, unlike other times, Bruce didn’t hold back, and neither did she. Before they feared the Hulk, so their lovemaking had been gentle and tentative - which she didn’t mind, necessarily, but sometimes…

Yeah.

His thrusts were animalistic and almost painful, but she encouraged him to keep it up - _harder, more Bruce, **more**_. And she gave as good as she got. Good thing they stayed in the soundproof lab, because in hindsight everyone would’ve heard them if they’d been upstairs. They came together, with him behind her and thrusting his pelvis one last time. His midriff was still somewhat heavy and she loved feeling it bounce against her ass. That was…something she could get very used to.

Bruce let out a mighty bellow and rolled onto his back, and she wondered if he were really tired, or resting, because it seemed part of him was ready for another round. Instead of pushing him, she crawled over and settled sideways over his chest. She began tracing small circles across his puffy middle and he gently rubbed her back in response. She could tell something was on his mind, but she’d wait until he was ready.

“I liked it,” she told him, just in case he wasn’t sure how she felt and was worried about it. “More than that. I really enjoyed it.”

Bruce’s eyebrow raised a little, but a slow smirk pinked his lips. “Good,” he told her. “Because I’ll probably be using it as an alternative to the lullaby. It’s quicker, and easier.”

She scraped her nails against his chest. “I still like using the lullaby.”

“Oh, I’m not saying not to,” he said, sighing heavily. “It’s just–-this stops anything unscheduled from happening in the first place. The lullaby is still a great post-effect.”

“Mm,” she agreed, Her fingers raked his stomach and his cock twitched. “I liked seeing your belly, too.”

Bruce cheeks slowly reddened. “Yeah. I…ah. I kind of go overboard.”

“I honestly don’t mind.”

He craned his neck to get a good look at her expression. “Really?”

She nodded firmly. “Really. I wouldn’t care if it became permanent. I think you’d look good with some extra padding.”

Bruce chuckled a little awkwardly, but then realized she was being serious. “You’re not joking?”

“Nope.”

“Wow. Okay.” He slowly propped his head with his hand. “You do know, though, that if I keep using this thing like I am I’ll start gaining weight for real. I mean, it could be a lot of weight, Tasha.”

She shrugged and squeezed one of his pecs, and Bruce growled a little in his throat. “I’m fine with it if you’re okay with it. Get as fat as you want.” She casually nibbled her lower lip. “It felt…nice having something to bump up against.” She wasn’t going to say more, but imagining Bruce twice or even three times his current size wasn’t frightening or disgusting in her mind. In fact the more she thought of it, the more she yearned to see Bruce as a larger man. A much larger man.

Bruce interrupted her brief daydream fantasy after softly snorting. “Fine. But I doubt you know what’s in store for us.”

Natasha merely smiled.

***

Bruce wasn’t sure, but from then on it seemed as if Natasha had started cooking more often? And were the portions somewhat on the larger side–? Not that he took much notice; he’d been getting hungrier lately and Natasha seemed to know just when he was feeling a bit peckish. She instinctively knew when he could do with an afternoon snack, or three. And they’d started shopping for clothes more often which, to Bruce’s chagrin, wasn’t really something he liked. But he couldn’t deny how he enjoyed seeing her face light up, when she found something that was “just perfect” for him. The clothes she bought always seemed a bit big, but she’d tell him no, they were just fine. And sure enough in a few weeks or so, they did fit pretty well. Until something happened like a small tear in the seat, or a button popping off. But she told him it was just how clothes were made these days - cheaper fabric, and whatnot.

But one day, he caught a glimpse of himself in a newspaper article - he still read the morning paper, so sue him - while shaving in the mirror, and he had to do a double take. He looked…wow. Just.

 _Wow_.

Swallowing, he lumbered to the bathroom scale (he’d never weighed himself; he’d always thought it was a vain practice), but had to frown when the digital readout remained blank.

“Honey?” He called. “Do we need to replace the batteries in the bathroom scale?”

“What?”

Bruce cupped his hands. “I said, the bathroom scale! Is it broken?”

Natasha snuck her head in, and he smiled softly. She looked picture perfect in the morning. Every time.

“No,” she said, waving a spatula at him. Bruce’s stomach growled as the smell of bacon and pancakes wafted from the kitchen. He was hungry enough for a few extra stacks this morning.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Come here, look at this.”

“Bruce, I’m cooking–”

“I know, I know. It’ll only take a second. Here. Step on it.”

She huffed, but did as he asked, tsking. “Well, shoot. I guess I should spar a little more...”

“You look fine, honey,” he rumbled behind her. He pinched a roll of flesh, barely a few inches, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned back into him. “But,” he murmured, “the scale works for you. Why won’t it work for me?”

She snickered at him. “Bruce, you goof. That scale only goes up to 330.”

He blinked at her. “Only to…what?”

“Sweetheart,” she said, softly stroking his chin. She placed a gentle arm on his shoulder. “You’re bigger than that. That’s why your results aren’t coming up

“W-what? No way…!”

“Yes, way. And _weigh_.” She kissed him quickly. “Oh, shit, the bacon.” She rushed out, just as a small smoke plume licked the edges of their bathroom. “And I think you’re cuter now than when I first met you!”

Her voice drifted to the kitchen again, and he stared at the scale in dumbfounded surprise. He supposed he wasn’t upset, not really, but…

He finally got a good look at his thick arms and sausage-like digits, and stomach that hid his feet and legs from view (unless he bent over. Way over). He finger-poked his doughy middle, watching how far his hand sunk down, and then he hefted his lower belly in his hands and jiggled it a little. He really…wow. He was massive. Not just chubby. _Massive_. Whale-like, if he could be so bold with himself.

Tentatively turning, looked at himself, at last seeing the damage of a few years’ worth of binge eating and heavy cream desserts. A thick, double-wide chin, a round face with even rounder cheeks, linebacker arms and torso with fat accumulating around his elbow and across his (soft, very soft) chest. He’d always been hairy, but the hair was a bit more sparse and spread across his extra layers of fat, and some of it covered the dimpled cellulite on his thighs and backside.

“Huh,” he murmured, squeezing a pec. His pectorals were covered with a few layers of blubber and he could jiggle them a little, too. Maybe not a lot, but the evidence didn’t lie; he’d be an A-cup in any woman’s lingerie store. At least.

Shaking his head and marveling at his new form, Bruce quickly slapped his belly and watched it wobble in the mirror. No, he wasn’t mad. Fascinated, yes. And quickly recognizing that it wasn’t all that bad.

Plus, it explained a lot of things about his clothes. And it explained the gentle ribbing from his teammates.

Natasha certainly didn’t seem to mind (and their sex life had never been better, really), and he didn’t really care how fat he’d become because he was happier. Much happier. And he hadn’t had an unscheduled incident for at least a few years, since they started all this.

“ _Bruce_! Pancakes are ready!”

“Coming,” he shouted back. He took one last look at his large body and gave his belly a reassuring pat and squeeze. He wasn’t really slowing down, and it probably meant he’d be even fatter next year. Oh, well.

His stomach growled more insistently.

He could definitely live with it.


End file.
